


let me show you how proud i am to be yours

by r1ker



Category: In and Out (1997)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4228491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>howard never thought he'd be one to refer to himself as a flexible virgin, but when the shoe fits, he doesn't ask to go a size up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me show you how proud i am to be yours

**Author's Note:**

> #inandoutsquad strikes again
> 
> sydney and aino, ask and ye shall receive

He’s a little embarrassed to tell Peter.

 

Well, about a number of things, many of them inconsequential to the fact that he’s a virgin. Yes, that’s him, almost forty years old and has yet to touch or been touched by anyone. Regardless of what anyone in his immediate family or real life likes to think, he and Emily never did anything beyond kissing. Howard found out early on that Emily was too much for him, all tornados, and most of the time he just told her no if she was in the mood; he wasn’t interested on that particular night. “That particular night” became all the time and soon he reserved himself to the fact that maybe this wasn’t for him.

 

But after a while, once he realized he was gay and Peter ran into his life with a ferocity of which Howard had never seen before, he began to open up to the fact that maybe he hadn’t done it with the right person yet. And boy, was he correct on that little passing observation.

 

He’s at Peter’s hotel room in Greenleaf, sitting on the foot of the bed anxiously while Peter is up to something in the adjoining bathroom. Howard stares at anything, the pattern of the carpet, his hands as they rest clasped together on his knees. God, he can’t believe how terrified he is of this. He starts thinking of what he does with the rest of himself when they finally get to it. He thinks fleetingly of the birds and the bees talks he was given years ago, how he listened passively without much interest, but drew all the focal points of it and stored those away.

 

Peter comes out of the bathroom in boxers and a t-shirt, smiling when he sets eyes on Howard, and sits next to him on the bed. They sit in mutual silence for a while, Peter’s head finding Howard’s shoulder. Howard can tell he took a modest shower before rejoining him, his shock of black hair smelling clean. He’s really not sure of what they’re going to do tonight. There really isn’t much, everyone in town seemingly back to normal following the fiasco of the last couple of weeks, and with that, Peter and Howard have mostly been left alone.

 

The two of them fall back on the bed, Peter with his face buried in Howard’s shoulder, Howard staring mindlessly at the ceiling. God, he’s completely out of it with how comfortable he is now. He doesn’t have to worry about faking it, putting on a show to make him seem like what he previously conceived as normal. It’s all completely real with Peter and it’s almost a little too much for him to bear.

 

“Peter,” Howard whispers when he thinks Peter is dozing off on his shoulder. Peter’s eyes slit open and he angles his head up. “There’s something I have to tell you.” His tone is so unintentionally serious it makes Peter perk up instantly.

 

“What?”

 

“I did gymnastics in school.” At that Peter bursts into laughter, kissing the underside of Howard’s chin in penance.

 

“You make that sound like it was a mortal sin, Howard,” Peter smiles and wraps one arm around Howard’s shoulder. He kisses the line of Howard’s jaw, not being able to control himself. It’s just so casual now he’s afraid someone will take it away from him if he doesn’t do it enough. “Did you like it?”

 

“Yeah, my mom liked that I had something borderline sporty to do,” Howard says, mindlessly tilting his head to let Peter suck kisses into his neck. “It wasn’t too bad. Lots of bending and twisting, you know. I went to a few competitions and placed, went onto state two years in a row. I don’t remember a lot of it now, it being almost twenty years ago, but I could probably bust it out again if I needed to.” Peter leans back, sits up, and pats the bed in between Howard’s legs.

 

“Well, come on, then,” Peter encourages, shaking Howard’s leg in his hand. “Get up and show me what you remember there, pretzel.” Howard tries to hide the blush that warms his face and does so, gets to his feet and starts to wrack his brain to see if it even remotely still has any of the positions.

 

Finally, one floats to the surface and Howard drops to the floor, leaning forward to rest his weight on his forearms and slowly brings his legs up and over his head, almost falling over when he hears Peter’s amused breath.

 

“I’m a little old so if you could hurry up on the ogling,” Howard grits out, muscles burning in a way that, again, they haven’t done in twenty years. He lingers a little longer than he’d like in his current shape to give Peter the full effect.

 

Rolling out from what he used to playfully – probably not so playfully, this was the time in his life that he absolutely hated it – call “Satan’s horseshoe,” he finds he’s nearly out of breath. Something sinister rises to his mind. He tamps it down and looks up at Peter expectantly to see if his imagination wants to be treated any more.

 

“Alright then, since it seems to be my choice by that twinkle in your eye,” Peter begins, resting his elbows on his knees to invade Howard’s personal space, “give me something where I can see your face. After all, that’s the first thing I fell in love with. Your body was next, don’t worry.”

 

Howard laughs, a soft little sound, and this time around it doesn’t take him long to pick out what shape he wants to make his body into now. He stands up in front of Peter and brings one leg up, holding his foot in his hand and bringing it to rest on the back of his head, his knee contorting flawlessly to the shape his brain wants to make it. Howard always saw cheerleaders doing this and it was never as good as he was able to do, he thought.

 

Peter’s eyebrows shoot up and Howard smiles, knowing this one to be the zinger that might just make this floor show be cut a little bit short. Then it fades away and it’s replaced with the most terrifying knot invading the pit of his stomach. He’s almost not ready for this.

 

Peter grabs him by the hips and sends him tumbling back down onto the bed again, kissing him on the lips for all he’s worth, and Howard has to ground himself with both hands fisted on the bed. This could very well be too much for him.

 

“Peter,” he breathes out in between having Peter’s tongue in his mouth, “I’m a virgin.”

 

Peter makes that same little laugh he did when Howard dropped his first bombshell earlier. He pulls back to look at Howard, runs one hand through Howard’s hair in favor of responding immediately. “That’s not going to stop this, you know. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, alright? I’m going to get you through this soul-searching, life-changing, revolutionary experience with little fuss and a whole lot of muss. Sound good?”

 

Howard nods and accepts another kiss, deeper this time, and his brain is so occupied by this he doesn’t even see Peter unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off of his shoulders and onto the foot of the bed. He moves his arms up to let his undershirt come off next and this new bareness leaves him feeling vulnerable. Peter works to reassure him that this is not so, kissing his shoulders and the high planes of Howard’s chest.

 

Peter gently grabs him by the shoulder and flips their positions, settles Howard down again onto the bed beneath him, and tugs down Howard’s pants. Howard tries to help him as best as he can, legs working to shed their confines, and finally they slide down onto the ground defeated.

 

Howard clings to him, hands everywhere, from Peter’s shoulders to his upper arms then forearms, wanting everything about him at once. His jaw aches from kissing but he’s not even bothered by it, chalking it up to undisclosed desires of years past. He’s hard, cock aching in his boxer briefs, but he staves off relief with only mild struggle. He’ll suffer now if it means pleasure later.

 

Peter leaves him long enough to get condoms and lube and Howard aches in his absence, finding the cool air of the room stinging to his skin, but that pain is relieved when Peter returns with his supplies, sitting them on the side table and clambering back onto the bed to kiss Howard again.

 

“You’re probably going to have to go on your hands and knees if you don’t want your back to hurt, bub,” Peter informs regretfully and he’s a bit surprised when Howard’s face instantly doesn’t go to regret.

 

“No, you might be the more experienced one in this tryst but I know something you don’t know,” Howard says, as mischievous as he’s ever behaved around Peter, and hoists his legs up around Peter’s shoulder blades, the balls of his feet resting comfortably against the sharp jut of cartilage. He’s blessed he doesn’t feel the burn he had earlier when he was showing off, and that makes it easy for Peter to begin prepping him, starting out slow to let Howard get adjusted to the feel. “My ‘pretzel’ quality, as you so elegantly put it, will help, trust me…”

 

One finger goes to two then three and Howard can’t make any other noise other than quiet breaths. The feel is undoubtedly strange, knowing that Peter’s working him open, but he relaxes, feeling his skin prickle when Peter’s fingers skate across a nerve.

 

Soon, it’s done, and Peter leans away to roll a condom over his cock, and Howard watches passively. He’s not concerned about that part of sex, just regulating his breathing so he doesn’t completely lose it when the time comes to, how can he put it, get fucked. He readjusts his legs on Peter’s shoulder blades, back arching to give Peter more access, and once Peter is fully inside him the air leaves his lungs entirely.

 

Peter freezes and momentarily Howard gets scared, wants to know if something’s bothered him hard enough to stop. Howard would, he’d do anything for Peter, but soon that look of fear dissipates and is replaced by a dazed look as he leans down to slip his tongue back into Howard’s mouth.

 

Peter moves in and out of him slowly, to acclimate Howard to the feel, and Howard’s gasping into his mouth, not worrying at all about a thing but seeking more of that feeling, greedily taking what he’s denied himself for years. Peter doesn’t hold onto him but plants both hands on the bed on the respected sides of Howard’s head, driving into him deeply as time lapses slowly.

 

For the first time in his life, Howard can’t talk. He can’t argue, won’t argue, and won’t complain about the position he’s in now. Words are thrown out the window instantly in favor of choked moans at each time Peter thrusts into him. Again he struggles to draw in breath, lungs burning. Peter’s having no trouble at all, his sighs only hitching from time to time. _God_ , Howard thinks, _this is everything_. He thinks fleetingly about how sex could become such a thing that he would be completely enraptured with, but Peter worked to make it feel like that for him.

 

The pleasure is replaced by something impatient after a while, like something needs to happen or Howard’s afraid his skin will ignite where it has formed goosebumps. He worms one hand down to where their two bodies are colliding, drawing back and coming together again, and strokes himself once, twice, and he comes, the gasp he releases embarrassing only to him. Peter, having been thrusting in and out of Howard languidly, picks up the pace to chase his impending climax, kissing Howard through his and struggling to maintain his balance on his hands.

 

With a stifled groan Peter comes, hides his face in Howard’s neck as the tingle of orgasm comes over him, knees wobbling against the dents they’ve formed in the comforter. He slides out of Howard after a few brief moments and sits on the bed, peels the condom off to toss it away in the trashcan by the bed. He grabs a handful of tissues from the box and wipes Howard clean, Howard’s sounds of gratitude doing enough to him to make him want a second round. He resigns himself to collecting the rumpled comforter to cover the two of them back up.

 

He finds Howard again the second he’s done taking care of business, kissing him feather light on the tail end of a soft breath. Howard rests a hand on his cheek, the grain of stubble pressing against the sensitized skin of his palm, and pulls away from him to only say one thing.

 

“Told you that flexing would come in handy.”


End file.
